home again

We're home so much later than I anticipated. After the festival yesterday we very nearly slept in the car at the grounds but ending up driving to Bryan instead. All that walking left us dead ass tired and unable to think clearly. It was gorgeous out there last night and only the certainty that we would wake up stiff and miserable kept us from camping out unprepared.

Even so we have no change of clothes and spent much of today in costume. Except that Alan was wearing his sandals because he rubbed his pinkie toe so raw and bloody that putting the boots on was out of the question. I have five blisters so far, but none are as gruesome and painful as Alan's one.

Before we passed out from exhaustion we caught the last quarter of the UT game. Sweet.

We had lunch with Joan and Edward, and all of us bemoaned the sad state of affairs that is American politics. Edward is interesting, in that he can't seem to understand why anyone would be worried about two men or women having relations when the economy has gone to hell and we're fighting a mess of a war in Iraq.

Time to write and date a post for Saturday on the festival.

novels

I'm 11,000 words deep into this story. It's interesting and I wonder why I never did this before. Sheer laziness can be the only reason. I wish I could have been as focused on some of my school work or other parts of my life. Maybe I can be. It would be a nice change.

My shoulders ache and ache, but I write away. I'm just barely into the story, even though I'm pounding it out sans artistry or grace. Just getting it down so I can go back over with colorful brushes and fill in those words with well phrased sentences and brilliant structures. I'm also writing the story in sequence, though I'm not sure if the novel will end up being that way. I spent a few pages on the story of my main character's origins, which could fit as a prologue and set the stage for this world. It has a witch burning in a provincial town that reminds me of 19th century Russia. At least that is the way I see it in my mind. I will have a lot of work coloring in that sketch so others can read it.

50,000 words won't be anywhere near enough for this story. But it will be a start. I'm glad. I haven't attempted to write a novel since the hilarious vampire porno romance that was so so so deliberately awful. Ahh, the terrible inspiration of a bad Dracula movie can drive a person to commit terrible artistic crimes.